


eyes on your target

by shineyma



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Season/Series 03, mentions of past relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 13:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11807265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineyma/pseuds/shineyma
Summary: It's not news that Simmons has guts.





	eyes on your target

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like there's something I should say here, but....nope. I got nothing.
> 
> Thanks for reading and, as always, please be gentle if you review!

Grant’s always known that Simmons has nerves of steel.

The woman went undercover in HYDRA despite being the _worst_ liar on the team, joined the team in the first place even though she was wildly unsuited for field work, and jumped out of the Bus without a parachute to save the rest of them—and _then_ continued to live and work on the Bus despite having developed a near-paralyzing fear of heights. And all that was in the one year he knew her; god only knows what she got up to before they met.

So, yeah. It’s not news that Simmons has guts.

This, though? This is a whole other ball game.

“Okay, run this by me again,” he says, leaning back against his desk. “She seriously just walked up to you—?”

“And said ‘take me to your leader,’ yeah,” Kebo confirms.

Grant gives Simmons his most judgmental look.

“It’s a _classic_ ,” she says—and not in a defensive tone. Oh no. That’s her _explaining basic chemistry to morons_ tone.

“Uh huh.” He glances to Aldridge behind her. “And you’re _sure_ —?”

“No weapons, no trackers, no _way_ anyone followed her here,” Aldridge recites. She maybe sounds a little annoyed, but since this _is_ the sixth time Grant’s asked, he’s gonna be nice and let it slide. “If this is an assassination attempt, it’s a really weird one.”

“It’s not an assassination attempt,” Simmons says, also for the sixth time.

“Can’t blame a guy for wondering,” he says, “what with how you threatened to kill me the last time we saw each other.”

She actually rolls her eyes.

“Right, well.” Clapping his hands once, he pushes away from his desk and circles around to sit behind it. “This was fun and all, but—” he gestures vaguely from Aldridge to Simmons “—kill her.”

Simmons doesn’t even blink. “You’re not going to kill me. You’re going to help me.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, amused despite himself. “And why would I do that?”

“Because you hate the team,” she says. “You want to hurt them.”

“Which killing you would do,” he points out. “I’m thinking of having my people dismember you and then sending you back to the Playground piece by piece. What do you guys think? Would that hurt them?”

“Should do,” Kebo agrees.

“Definitely,” Aldridge says.

Grant spreads his hands. “See?”

“You hate the team,” Simmons repeats. If she’s rattled by the talk of dismemberment, she doesn’t show it. (Seriously. Nerves of fucking steel.) “And they hate you. Imagine how they’ll feel when you tell them that I came to _you_ for help—that in my hour of need, I chose to trust _you_ before _them_. Imagine how it would break Coulson’s heart.”

…Okay. He’s gotta admit she paints an appealing picture.

“Fine,” he says. “I’m listening.”

“There’s a man named Gideon Malick,” she says. “You want him dead.”

“Huh.” Grant considers that, flicking a look at Aldridge. “Anyone named Malick on my to-kill list?”

Aldridge pulls out her phone and taps at it.

“There’s a Maloney,” she offers after a second. “No Malick, though.”

He shrugs at Simmons. “Well, then.”

She smiles. It’s the smile of someone with an ace up her sleeve, and Grant doesn’t like it one bit.

“You may not know his name,” she says, “but you know who he is. He’s been hoarding all the power that you want—so much so that people are still more scared of him than of you, even when you’re literally _killing_ them.”

Okay. So he might know who she’s talking about…and yeah, he _definitely_ wants the bastard dead.

“And you want him dead, too, is that it?” he asks.

“No,” she says. “I want him _destroyed_.”

Grant sits back in his chair. That tone—that’s a new one. He’s heard her angry before (there was this one time, just a few days after he got dropped in Vault D and left to rot, when she stormed down the stairs in the middle of the night and spent a good fifteen minutes cursing him up, down, and sideways), but this…this is pure fury.

And the cold smile she’s wearing doesn’t fit her face at all.

Or at least it _wouldn’t_ have the last time he saw her, more than a year ago. Now…

“He have anything to do with why you missed our little team reunion back in April?” he asks.

Not like he’s been paying it much mind (he was a little more distracted with the why and how of her showing up at all), but he noticed as soon as he laid eyes on her that she’s lost weight. And not in a _working too hard to eat_ or a _summer diet_ way, either. She’s lost _real_ weight, _serious_ weight—enough so that the angles of her face are sharper, the softness gone from her cheeks.

The shirt she’s wearing has a wide neck, and he can see the way her collarbones stick out from here. _Something_ obviously happened to her—something bad.

Her (also sharper) jaw goes tight. “Indirectly.”

“But directly enough that you want revenge?”

Simmons pauses, then looks to Aldridge. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“To kill you if you make a single wrong move?” Aldridge asks brightly.

It actually makes Simmons smile—a real, genuinely amused smile—which might be the most unnerving thing she’s done so far. The Simmons he caught in Cuba wouldn’t have smiled at a Hydra agent to save her own life…literally. He knows she knew playing nice with John would’ve gone a long way to protect her, but she didn’t even hesitate before pulling on that ice queen act and letting Fitz doom them both.

Grant’s barely given her a second thought in the last year, but now that she’s in front of him, the questions are just piling up.

“I mean in general,” she clarifies. “Do you know why Ward has resurrected Hydra? Dragged you lot together to follow him?”

Something in Grant goes cold—and it must show on his face, because all of Aldridge’s spark goes right out of her when she darts a look his way.

“Um,” she says, very quietly. “Yeah?”

Simmons nods to herself, draws in a slow breath, and then takes four quick steps forward to plant her hands on Grant’s desk and lean across it.

“Malick got the man I love killed,” she says evenly. “But only _after_ damning him to fourteen years of hell.”

There’s a band wrapped around his chest, so tight he can’t even breathe. All he can do is stare.

“Whatever you would do to avenge Agent Palamas,” Simmons continues, voice shaking, “I would do a thousand times over to avenge Will. I _loved_ him, and he—” She cuts herself off with a sharp inhale, then leans in even closer. “I need you. SHIELD—the team—they’re too good. Too principled. If I asked for their help in doing even _half_ of what I want done to Malick, they’d refuse. They’d say it would make me as bad as he is.”

“You disagree?” Grant asks. Her little rant gave him time to collect himself; his voice comes out a bit rough, but he knows it’s the only sign she’s getting that she’s shaken him.

“I don’t _care_ ,” she corrects. That same fury’s back in her eyes, but this time there’s something behind it. Something familiar. “I don’t care what it makes me or what it costs or even what Will would think of me. Malick needs to pay for what he’s done.”

Her words hit him right in the gut. Just like that, he can’t breathe. Again.

That’s what he was recognizing in her eyes, then. The same thing he sees every day in the mirror: the desperate, clawing grief that drove him to restart the organization that tore everything Kara was away from her—to step into the shoes of the man who broke her.

It’s almost funny. He never expected to find understanding in Jemma Simmons, of all people, and yet…

“Say I agree to help you,” he says. “What do I get in return? It sounds like your revenge’ll be a lot of work; the satisfaction of hurting Coulson isn’t gonna cut it.”

She straightens, pushing off his desk, and crosses her arms. He has the passing thought that the new look suits her; she was always too soft, too _sweet_ for his taste before, but now…now she’s a survivor. She’s half-starved and almost feral in her fury, but she’s straight-backed and proud in front of him, has stared him in the face without flinching since the moment Kebo dragged her in here. Not even being threatened with dismemberment shook her.

“Whatever you want,” she promises. “Just so long as Malick gets what’s coming to him.”

No hesitation. No conditions. Just a flat, open offer in exchange for the revenge she needs.

They have a lot more in common than he ever guessed.

“Okay,” he says, motioning to Kebo to go get her a chair. “Tell me what you know about this Malick guy.”

“You’ll help me?” she asks, intent.

“Let’s just say I’m open to negotiation.” He folds his hands on his desk and gives her a pleasant smile. “I’m sure we can work something out.”


End file.
